


A Tempestuous Trial

by Trifoilum



Series: An Offering [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Action, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cliffhanger in chapter 1, Gen, M/M, Multi, Survivor Guilt, Tsunderes, Violence, background Helbindi/Kiran, basically what I imagined the current tempest trial is from helbindi's side, summer helbindi come home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoilum/pseuds/Trifoilum
Summary: If he was to die a pitiful death, then so be it. But not before leaving this Tempest.





	1. First and Second Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nobody really _knows_ what this place does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning : Descriptions of violence, some degree of dehumanization.

With a slight twist of his arm, Helbindi blocked an incoming sweep of a blade. Sharp as it was, it was so damn brittle.

From his left, came a familiar whistle from a throwing knife and he took a quick step back, letting the knife destroy a nearby sandcastle. And then he spun to the right just before Býleistr cleaved him in two.

Between the three pieces of scraps surrounding him, the copy of himself was the most interesting sight, grimacing right back at him with the same ferocious grin. Questions such as _how_ and _who else would he gonna see_ faded into the background, replaced by the piss and vinegar that always made the fight much more exciting.

“C’mon! Is that all you had?” the former general roared at his imitation. He—it—fought well. Very much like him, in fact, but Helbindi ain’t that cocky to think he had no flaws. He used that knowledge well, dodging blow after blow despite the stark difference in weapon. What his shovel lacked in pure destruction, it made up in flexibility. Using it was fun.

Several lumbering blows were easily countered, followed by a direct kick right at the scrap’s chest that knocked his imitation a couple feet backwards. Another quick turn stopped an incoming attack from his side, and that particular piece of junk received a straight punch in her face for that.

And then Helbindi batted his imitation with the shovel, knocking him into a rather huge sandcastle and sending Býleistr away with a loud clang. He didn’t even bother picking up the axe, instead stomping his way cockily, twirling the shovel and slammed its triangular handle down his imitation’s mug. Again and again and again.

“ _Fuckin’ disgrace._ ”

Loud cracking sounds filled the air. No blood ever came out, however; the beastly grimace on his imitation remained fixed, as if carved into his face.

Before Helbindi could process that whole shit, a loud “HA!” on his far right drew his attention in a flash. Some-fucking-how, the brat was already in the other side of the pier, swinging her rake up and down to knock a Pegasus rider off her steed.

“That fuckin’ brat,” growled the larger man, turning to bat another knife with his shovel head. “Oi! Brat! What are you doing over there!”

“Just a moment!” Ylgr replied just as loud, slamming her rake down the scrap. “Sorry, Sumia!”

“What do you mean just a—“

An incoming barrage of slashes from his back disrupted anything else Helbindi had to say. The remaining scrap was inching too close and Helbindi dodged her attacks one second too late, resulting in one long graze right across his unprotected back.

Meanwhile, the brat didn’t even notice, too busy leaping towards an even further enemy.

“Fucking _shit._ ”

Gripping the spade with both hands, he gave his next attack as much strength as he could, smacking the scrap right at her unarmored ribs and sending her sword flying. A satisfying crack could be heard before the scrap and her weapon exploded into dust.

The thief deftly hid behind another too-large sandcastles, but he must have been even more of a fool if he ever thought that would stop him.

“Outta my way!” he roared, smashing through the castle like the beast he was and slamming his shovel into the thief. Nothing echoed in his mind except _get your filthy ass right there_.

When he did arrive, a closer look revealed that Ylgr was getting the upper hand against her much larger foe. She had combined her aptitude for throwing knives with her smaller size, darting from side to side in a chaotic dance. Every hit of her rake was playful but far from random, and by the moment Helbindi arrived at her side she was already alone.

“I’m done here!” she said, fists pumping the air.

His stuttering heart failed to stop him from growling in frustration. “Don’t just wander off by yourself, brat! What happens if you get lost, huh? You wanna get swallowed by this place?”

“A Tempest doesn’t do that,” countered the brat with a bit of a pout.

“Nobody really _knows_ what this place does.” Helbindi said, waving his hand in a wide gesture. Aside from the spiraling clouds and the sun that looked and felt several times larger than usual, this particular Tempest just felt like another stretch of beach. Not the same one they were previously in—he ain’t even sure if this was a real place—but it was a beach all right.

He ain’t even sure how did he arrive there. At first he returned to the camp with Kiran, and then the summoner walked away to check on his commander, and then as Helbindi was stomping his way to the Nifl camp things just…changed.

And then there’s that lying _bitch_.

The hand gripping the shovel only turned tighter when Helbindi let his mind drift towards the summoner. Despite the faint argument on his mind, he really shouldn’t have let the smaller man go. Should have held his hand just a bit longer. Forget the fact that between the Askran brats and the whole Order, Kiran’s safety was practically assured. Forget the fact that Kiran had much more experience wading through the Tempest than most others. Right now, it felt like stones were slowly filling Helbindi’s stomach.

_If only you had followed directions so well before, dear…_

“C’mon.” He said, bending down and picking the bucket he had dropped during the fight. “Stay close to me, brat. Ain’t riskin’ my neck if somethin’ happens to ya.”

“Okay.” After wiping the sweat on her forehead with her arm, Ylgr showed him a very wide grin. “By the way, I’m doing so much better with my rake after your lessons.”

Helbindi held back the surge of pride in his chest and let a rough grunt. “Yeah, told you so. Just treat it as an axe and you’ll be fine.”

“Everything’s going to be alright!” said Ylgr, standing upright and giving him a playful salute.

Helbindi didn’t even bother holding back from groaning. No way she ain’t gonna ran off by herself again.

====================

And she did ran off again, but this time Helbindi made sure to carve a path for her.

As she leaped towards another scrap twice her size, the former general stood his ground right at where a horsed knight was readying himself for a strike. The scrap charged straight through, swinging his sword in a wide arc, but who the everloving fuck brought a horse in a beach.

Helbindi easily dodged the hit and was about to smash the horse’s leg in retaliation when three arrows flew in rapid succession. “ _Shit_!”

A timely swoop managed to deflect two of them, but one almost pierced through his forehead, dodged only by lucky fractions of a second. An archer quickly slipped in-between a group of tall trees, no doubt readying for another shot.

“Oi, watch your back!” he shouted as another arrow flew, grazing his shoulder. “An archer in the trees!”

“There’s another one here!” returned Ylgr, voice a bit hoarse. “Watch your back too!”

“Bah, who do you think I am?”

With a loud clang, Helbindi’s weapon clashed against what would have been the legendary Falchion. The scrap seemed to learn from the failure and his slashes were much more guarded and careful now, the horse turning left and right with every other blow. Either these strikes were distractions or they were waiting for the distraction.

He never was a stickler for strategies.

After swatting the next arrow, Helbindi quickly moved around the horse and threw the bucket he was holding. It was enough to disorient the horse as it turned around, making it stumble across the white sands as it tried to balance itself.

Taking advantage of that precious few seconds, he lunged right towards the scrap. His sad attempt of a parrying blow was easily blocked, and Helbindi tackled the horse and its rider down with his massive size.

Another swing right at the knight’s head, and both scrap and horse were gone. Nothing could stop him from decimating the annoying archer after that.

That proved to be a fatal mistake.

Just as he dealt the finishing blow, Helbindi saw that there was another scrap waiting on the other side of the trees. And upon seeing him the mage immediately summoned black wisps of fire.

The next moment, painful heat blasted through him.

Helbindi only remembered bellowing afterwards as he tossed his shovel and charged, grabbing the mage right at her lithe arm and tossing her somewhere. Ylgr made a scream, and then he didn’t remember anything. All he could think was _kill_ and _pain_ and _not another failure_ and _this ain’t shit compared to Surtr’s flame._

The next moment he was kneeling, fingers choking the crumbling sand with pain coursing all over him. Breathing felt like swallowing coarse sands and he knew the fire had burned through his throat and lungs.

Someone was right beside him, kneeling, face outshone by the sun behind her. The brat. She seemed to say somethin’, but fuck if Helbindi could hear any of it. At least she’s okay. It would have been real bad if she got struck by the fire.

_“Oh no—“_

_“—Sister! Brother! Kiran!—“_

_“—Please, hold on!—“_

Ggggrgggh, so noisy. Why did she stay here instead of fightin’!? At least find somewhere safe to hide, dammit.

Helbindi wanted to shout, to tell her that this was nothing he hadn’t suffered before, but no voice came out. Ylgr leaned closer and now he could see the tears gathering on her eyes. That wasn’t right. He was used to be _feared of_ , never the one being _feared for_. He didn’t deserve any this.

_If only you had followed directions so well before, dear…_

Yeah, he couldn’t go to hell now, not when the brat still needed his protection. He couldn’t fail again.

But _damn_ , his eyes were growing heavy. Slowly, darkness began encroaching the edges of his vision. Everything started to fade until only the crashing waves remained, calm and soothing.

Maybe he should rest. Let time fix him up real quick.

Then Helbindi closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the angle that everyone in the Tempest were basically phantoms, not that different from Manikins in Dissidia-- and Helbindi just refused to see any them as humans. 
> 
> Anyhow! Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I'm quite satisfied with these two and would rather post them first rather than clog the whole thing up. ~~Spoiler alert he's okay~~


	2. Third and Fourth Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helbindi knew he hadn’t died. Understood it with his senses, because he was surrounded by nothingness and that was too much mercy for filth like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: some brief description about damage on a child's body. Also, some liberties are taken upon the physics of FEH in general and Tempest Trials in particular.
> 
> Obligatory dream sequence and some quiet moments ahoy.

Helbindi knew he hadn’t died. Understood it with his senses, because he was surrounded by nothingness and that was too much mercy for filth like him.

Staleness surrounded him like void. The gray bleakness hovered above him was too pallid to be called a sky, and ahead of him was a long and winding road with branches that seemed to crumble the moment he looked away from them. Darkness jutted through the ground all over him, imposing and yet so brittle, a blackened husk of something. Somewhere. Maybe it was the slums he came from, burnt by Surtr. Or the cities and villages of Nifl, burnt by himself. The thousand other places he had destroyed. He didn’t really care. No one is alive. Nothing withstands the flames of Muspell. Not even himself.

Still, a certainty rung deep in his bones. Something was waiting at the end of the road.

Helbindi treaded his way with the recklessness and confidence of someone who had nothing more to lose. And that was fact because he had almost nothing on him here. No Býleistr or shovel in his hands, no armor, no cape. No towel or flower necklace. Not even the helmet he insisted of wearing at the beach. Who the fuck knows why his swimming trunk was the only thing that remained but it only made the whole damn thing more off-putting.

Dryness was gathering in the back of his throat, sticking like sandpaper and laced with the vague bitterness of ash and smog. He tried coughing, but nothing came out. Not even sound. The ground beneath his feet clawed the bare skin with its chill. Everything was silent and his entire body was tensing in anticipation.

Of what, he didn’t know.

He continued. A thousand years passed before he realized that he wouldn’t find Menja here. He made sure of that, like so many things in his life. She might have not tasted the better life—and it _stings_ —but at least she died as clean as she could be in this miserable world.

A place of joy, Loki had said. Not this fucking place, then. Somehow that fact soothed him. He never believed that kind of bullshit, but if an afterlife exists and it judges everyone equally, then he would readily take Menja’s sins as his own. Let one go to hell instead of two.

Another one thousand years passed before Helbindi reached the end, but the road did end in a flat, wide circular space with no more jutting darkness around. Something white and blue was placed at the center and it took a couple of steps for his mind to recognize what it was.

Clusters of small, pale white flowers were blooming around a bunch of larger flowers, its petals translucent and supposedly cold to the touch. Here, they were warm.

He recognized those from his time in Nifl. People said they would never melt, but they did crumble to ash under the flames of Muspell. Helbindi was about to pick the bouquet up before deciding against it in the last second. He knew it was meant to be there.

The moment he made that decision, however, he could hear a voice calling for him.

“Helbindi.”

Every nerves in his body screamed. Whatever surge of relief he initially felt curdled into a bundle of thorns.

Go away, he shouted at the voice. Leave him alone. This was not a place anyone should ever wander to.

Nothing came out. Despite feeling like his throat was clawed from inside, scraped raw until flesh gave up and revealed the stark whiteness of bones, no sound ever came out.

So he kept shouting and shouting until the world faded away.

====================

Helbindi’s eyes snapped open with a choked gasp and the first thing he saw was the shoddy roof of a small wooden hut. Around him, angry rumblings of the ocean layered one after another, offering zero comfort to his still-ringing ears. Cold sweat drenched his sand-covered body and his mouth tasted like stale bile but he felt nothing else. In a split second, he decided that was fuckin’ heaven.

With a rumbling groan, he slowly rolled over and stood up, feeling the wooden floor bristling on his bare feet. From an uncovered window he could still see the unnatural sun, hovering high in the blue sky and circled by the spiraling clouds. Ylgr wasn’t there, but her rake was leaning on the wall right beside his horned helmet, spade, and bucket. Cracks were visible all over both tools. Meanwhile, the rest of the sparsely decorated hut looked like someone had just robbed the whole place. That might be what had happened.

Nevermind. Helbindi grabbed the spade and stumbled outside. His body still felt like lead, but that never stopped him before and it ain’t gonna stop him now.

A long and empty boardwalk greeted him, with similarly small huts standing along its many turns. Sunlight made it clear that his towel and flower necklace were no more, but no burns were lingering on his body. Most of his wounds had vanished and the remaining ones—still no clerics then—were no longer hurting, bandaged with long strips of colorful fabric that matches the ripped curtains he had seen inside the hut.

Signs of battle presented themselves in shattered boards and deep gouges on the supporting poles, but there were no blood. “Oi—“ he coughed, rough and dry. Something ugly started boiling in the pit of his stomach. “Oi, brat! Where are you? I swear, if you aren’t answerin’—“

“I’m here, I’m here!”

The answer came from one of the farther huts. Helbindi turned around and paced his way on sun-scorched wood, his shovel held in a vice grip.

Halfway, he could hear a number of dull thuds, sounds of something knocking on a hard surface, followed by a little girl’s yelp that announced Ylgr’s presence.

That exact moment, Helbindi threw his spade like a javelin.

With a shriek, Ylgr dropped the things she had been holding and ducked, barely avoiding the shovel. It blasted past her to strike the wooden pathway with a loud clank. “What are you doing!?” she shouted.

“Testin’ if you are who you are,” replied the former general in a tight huff. “Lotsa shit can mask looks and voices, but nothin’ will ever copy your reflex.”

And what he saw was good enough to unlatch that something ugly inside him, unraveling everything in a single rattled exhale.

“You fu— _you idiot_ ,” he choked out. “Why the hell didn’t you leave me alone? Why would you ever—“

“And what is wrong with you!?” cut Ylgr with a sharp glare. “Of course I don’t want you to die! Is that so hard to understand?”

She stopped picking the many things she dropped and stood up, glaring at the much larger man with flame in her eyes that no girl of her age should ever have. There were cuts and bruises on her body that weren’t there before, whatever remained from the foppery around her swimsuit were ripped and mangled, and the rest of her skin was practically cooked into a bruising red. Her eyes were swollen. Helbindi’s mind wandered back to her rake, worn out and cracked, and he looked down at his sand-covered body. He wondered how many battles did she fight alone before and after dragging his monstrous body through the sand.

Those recognition were enough to dissipate the words in his throat to a sigh.

“Dammit—no, nevermind…just, thanks for savin’ me.” That was enough to turn Ylgr’s frown into a grin, and it was enough to made him look away with heat on his cheeks. “Still, you shouldn’t recklessly put yourself in harm’s way, damn brat!”

The brat in question folded her tiny arms and made a little triumphant humph. “I’m going to fight my way out either way. So it’s just good thinking to not do it alone.”

That was not good thinking, it really was not, but Helbindi kept his mouth shut and started helping the brat. Scattered on the boardwalk were several wooden poles of various size and lengths, all seemed to be forcefully broken. A long swath of thick, patterned fabric that might have been another curtain was bundled into a neat roll. Along with them were small bundle of things he hoped were vulneraries, ropes, and— “Coconuts?” he asked, picking some kind of furry, orb-shaped thing Princess Gunnthrá had carried before.

“Coconuts!” claimed Ylgr cheerfully. “I took some from the trees. It’s wonderful!”

Opening the shell took a bit of trying, but soon the two of them were back under the shade of the hut, gobbling the clear liquid inside like the thirsting wanderers they actually were. Any skepticism Helbindi had about its integrity promptly disappeared the moment he took the first gulp.

“There’s— _mmm_ —others still hanging on the trees,” said Ylgr between indulgent sounds. “I’m not sure how ripe they are, but I think we can take them too.”

“Yeah, sure, just sack ‘em up with that cloth you took.” The former general used the small shovel Yglr had been carrying all this time to whack his third coconut. He ain’t that keen on the sweetness, but beggars ain’t choosers. “Better safe than sorry. Who knows how long we’ll stay here.”

“You’re right…” Ylgr placed the coconut she’d finished drinking on the floor. “Do you think we’ll see the others soon?”

Helbindi might have caught a glimpse of a frown and that made him give one of his own. “The hell are you doing with that face?” he grunted, feeling like they had been here before. “Your family and the Askrans went through hellfire for your sake, pretty damn sure they ain’t gonna let a Tempest stop ‘em.”

“I guess…” There was a silence, then a snicker. “You really aren’t bad at all.”

“Nope, that’s stupid of you.” After snapping the shell into smaller pieces with his bare hands, Helbindi scraped the white flesh with his teeth. Weird taste, but edible. “I ain’t becomin’ a good guy just ‘cause I’m offerin’ you common sense. You wanna see your family again, you stop being weak and _survive_. Nothin’ more.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?”

Helbindi cracked a few more of the shells, tossing the empty fragments aside before answering. “Sure.”

Their meal concluded in silence. Board fragments and poles were then used for makeshift repairs on their spade and rake, bound around strips of curtain for as much as their untrained hands and minds could design. After that, Ylgr used the shells as throwing knives and dropped a couple more coconuts to be bundled. If Helbindi had another surge of undeserving pride at Ylgr’s resourcefulness, he said nothing. That was not his doing.

Words were used again when the issue moved to vulneraries. Surprisingly, it was Ylgr who leaned on the miserly side, refusing her part with a certain petulance only a brat could show.

“I said I’m okay for now! We need to keep some in case we can’t find them anymore.”

“ _And I say_ ,” the former general pointed his finger down on the floor, “Stockpilin’ these ain’t got no use if you don’t get the chance to use it.”

Ylgr pouted in response.

“That confident in yourself, aren’t you? Damn sure you can avoid anythin’ this place is throwin’ at you?” Helbindi’s finger moved to poke her arm, right at where a large black mark was obscenely taunting them. “Then what’s this, huh? What’s all these things all over your body?”

She flinched and backed away, small hand just barely enough to cover that one spot. “It’s nothing. You were burned.”

The sobriety in her tone grated him. “And you think I’m not used to that?”

Ylgr froze, and a child born around ice should know how bad that was.

“You work under Surtr, you get used with flames. That ain’t mean the kind of cozy hearthfire you might have in your nice palace. And nobody gets any say on where it blazes upon.” A glimpse of his old slum passed, burnt down to nothing, and Helbindi snarled. “ _Nobody_.”

“We’re no longer in Muspell.” There was a certain gleam in Ylgr’s eyes, pained as much as it was petulant, as if those knowledge cost her a fortune. “There’s just you and me now. And I—“ here, her voice started to choke, “Don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Right. Of-fucking-course. As if _my ass._ Who the fuck was he kidding, of course the knowledge cost her a fortune and some. He made sure of that with Býleistr, like so many things in his life. That stung, but not as much as what would have happened _if_ —

Helbindi shook his head and clenched his teeth. Don’t think about it. _Do not fuckin’ think about it_. Ylgr is alive, and he’ll make sure she stays so if it’s the last thing he does.

There were much to discuss, but neither of them were stupid enough to waste time and energy on that right now. “At least use one, you damn brat.” he finally said, voice lacking any bite. “You said as much, it’s just you and me now. Lettin’ your wounds distract you does shit to both of us.”

Another pause. “And you knew damn well I can’t take ‘em all on my own,” he finished, looking away from the brat’s grinning face.

It took a bit more hesitation before Ylgr finally used a vulnerary, but before long both bruises and wounds faded together with most of the redness on her skin. “Alright,” she said, gripping her rake tight. “Are we ready?”

“What are you talking about, brat, I’m always ready,” grunted Helbindi. Wearing the horned helmet once again, he left the small bucket in the hut and used his free hand to hoist the bundled coconut over his shoulder. He would most likely never touch a coconut again for as long as he lived.

“Right, let’s have some fun!” said the brat with a renewed cheer.

Both their weapons were at risk of breaking, and the sun outside remained cruel and merciless, but for some reason he felt more prepared than before. Admittin’ that didn’t feel that embarrassin’, somehow, maybe because it was more about her competence than it was about his failures.

Or maybe the summoner had rubbed off on him more than he wanted to admit.

Helbindi gave himself a couple heartbeats to let that momentary weakness breathe before pushing it down again.

If he was to die a pitiful death, then so be it. But not before leaving this Tempest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still hadn't summoned Summer Helbindi yet ;__;
> 
> That Tempest Trial ending was damn interesting, but it sure as hell threw a wrench on my plot. I like the end results, though!


	3. Fifth and Sixth Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want a particularly carefree brat to remain safe, don’t tell her to sit still. _You follow the damn brat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: some survivor's guilt on the second part.

Helbindi learned a new lesson. If you want a particularly carefree brat to remain safe, don’t tell her to sit still. _You follow the damn brat_.

That offered some unexpected benefits, like forcing their foes to focus on the hulking brute.

Following a straight punch right on a pretty face, Helbindi made an upward swing that sent the scrap flying a couple feet back. That move placed him in close range to a mage, and without giving a fuck the former general flailed his spade into the little girl, sending her away with a satisfying crunch before she could open her tome.

“Eat sand!” he roared.

From behind an all too familiar sound of a stretched bow could be heard just as another scrap charged with spear pointed forward. A single swoop from Býleistr could block them all, but all he got now was a fortified spade.

At exactly that moment, Ylgr leaped right in front of him.

“Cannonball!”

Her rake caught the spear and tossed it away, opening her foe to a direct smack right on the face. Without stopping for a beat, she jumped right at the last second to avoid being mauled.

Helbindi took that time to block all the incoming arrows before swinging his spade at the culprit, the wolf shapeshifter. It only hit sand. She drew back, circling around him with her distance just slightly beyond his reach. Gauging, leaving no fuckin’ room for breathing.

And then he took a side step as an arrow flew past his head. Fuckin’ almost had him.

These dead meats had gotten faster. Smarter. Helbindi readied himself for another coordinated assault.

Luckily, the brat charged the wolf first. “I got it!” she shouted. With strike after strike, Ylgr engaged the wolf into a quick and dangerous dance that spared no moment of stillness. They leaped and dodged and countered each other, never hitting anything. It would have been a damn sight if Helbindi didn't get three more scraps to fight.

As he twirled his spade to deflect more arrows, the pretty-faced swordsman got up and swiped his blade low, aiming for Helbindi’s feet. He barely managed to dodge before kicking a smattering of sand right at the scrap's face. Then he batted the spear-wielding scrap as he was about to get up himself. 

At that point Ylgr leaped back from her position to press right beside him, closing the gaps in their defenses. “The beach is so fun! What game should we play next?” she remarked with a laughter.

Helbindi snorted as he readied himself, but a surge of pride ebbed and flowed. “Sure you got this?”

Her reply was a childish snicker. “Yeah!”

“Okay, then. I got your back.” He eyed the scraps ahead of him. The swordsman, his face marred with sand, had finally gotten up. The archer still aimed his bow at him. They were all _shit_. “Go get ‘er, brat.”

_"Cannonball!”_

As the now-rallied Ylgr dashed forward, Helbindi bared his teeth in a bloodcrazed grin and put himself right between her and the remaining scraps.

Curving slashes were alternated with a barrage of arrows, slowly closing on Helbindi. His spade groaned with every touch and it was enough for him to let a few blows inching dangerously close; a little sacrifice for the longer term. It was a coordinated assault; an improvement. Still damn predictable. All Helbindi needed to do was to feint a charge, rushing recklessly towards the archer, and the swordsman took the bait and lunged at him. That would have been impressive if the attack was meant for someone else, one less experienced in dealing with speedsters.

As it was, it only took a single side step and a turn for Helbindi to slam his spade’s handle, sending the scrap right back to the shore where he struggled and squirmed before finally dropping still. Then it was damn easy to take the archer out.

Behind him, the wolf was starting to lose her patience. Her vicious growl was a dangerous counterpart to Ylgr’s cheerful laughter. She charged forward to engage the brat in another dance, except this time the brat stole Helbindi’s moves and stopped right as the wolf rushed forward.

“Yeah, yeah!” she hooted, swinging her rake in a direct hit across the wolf’s belly. It was strong enough to lob the scrap up high, and then she followed with a downward slam that smashes the scrap into dust.

Once again the waves overtook the silence, grumbling and roaring. Still, Helbindi kept his breath for a few more moments, darting his eyes around the open beach in search for any possible threats.

Then he finally let his breath out.

“Woo-hoo!” cheered Ylgr as she moved closer. “I feel like I’m starting to get pretty good!”

“Now don’t get cocky, brat. Turn around and lemme see if you’re hurt,” said Helbindi, followed by a disgruntled huff. “Your skin’s startin’ to burn again.”

“That’s completely unrelated. No wounds!” said the brat.

She kept twirling and swaying. It looked like the kind of shit a princess would do in the storybooks. But then, what the fuck did he know? Stories were worthless in Muspell. If Surtr was one to give a damn about those shit, some might even say that they were banned. His daughters were living weapons; another tools for the tyrant. Helbindi's own knowledge were based on mere fragments he barely managed to salvage in the slums. Menja always liked them.

Helbindi shook his head. “C’mon. Stop spinnin’ and start walkin’."

“Okay!” said Ylgr in a loud cheer. “I’m so happy you’re here! Fighting is sooo easy when we’re working together, you know!?”

The former general looked away. “…Yeah. Not bad.”

Happy ain’t exactly the right word, but he had to admit it wasn’t _annoying_.

Despite a complaint every now and then, Ylgr’s cheerfulness remained mostly intact through this whole trek. Unchangeable, as if a layer of steel was now hiding underneath the sunny surface. Even now, as the redness on her skin grew deeper with each passing minute, Ylgr kept her pace in tandem with Helbindi’s.

In the battlefield too, she proved herself far from a burden. Unlike the Emblan brat, her offensive maneuvers were calculated, an erratic dance centered on his own blind spots. She understood where and when to position herself to keep the weaker scraps locked onto him. She knew who to pursue while he held back the rest.

The brat is no war general, not like Princesses Laegjarn and Laevatein. But what she lacked, she more than made up in her skill. It was a stark sight compared to the sulking girl he’d guarded in Muspell.

A sick feeling lurched inside Helbindi’s stomach when he tried comparing the two.

He kept walking. Time had started to lose its meaning. This stretch of sand and sea remained endless, pointless, and the sun remained angry and vicious on its throne up in the sky, surrounded ominously by the circling clouds that never seemed to stop turning itself inside out. Whatever excitement he initially had were long gone, replaced by a dogged determination to reach the end. A cacophony of pain throbbed all over his body.

When they started seeing palm trees, he reached out to snap branches after branches to hand out to the brat. Ylgr began holding two large fronds as a makeshift umbrella, then three, and still it looked far from enough.

“So. Hot,” she said. A loud rustling now followed her every movement. “I don’t know which is worse, frostbite or sunburn.”

“That was a stupid question. Sunburn stings. Frostbite _kills_.” After dropping the quickly thinning bundle of coconuts, Helbindi knelt down in front of the brat. “Here, hop on my back.”

Ylgr made a petulant humph and jutted her tongue out. “I see what you’re implying and I can walk by myself, _thank you_.”

“C’mon, you know we can’t use the vulneraries just yet,” he countered in a groan. “Things are gonna be much worse if you faint in the middle of a fight.”

She grinned widely, that brat. “Nah, the cold back home is much more annoying.”

“Ugh, fine, then at least stop fussin’.” Following an annoyed grunt, the former general slung the bundle over his shoulder and resumed walking. “Damn ungrateful brat.”

It’s annoying. So damn annoying. It felt like nothing connected these two Ylgrs than youth, that particular chaos that ebbed and flowed as it liked, and that thread seemed to fray more and more. And Helbindi understood that most of the burden was his to bear. There were some shit you had to learn once war and violence swung its fiery scythe, such as that persistence of hers. Like everything else, he made sure of that.

He didn’t know what to say, though. So Helbindi swallowed the sizzling lump in his throat and kept walking.

====================

Unlike the previous set of huts, these buildings were old and empty. Small. Damp.

Empty.

“And that’s our last vulnerary. Should have known that black knight would be a problem.”

Helbindi bit back the curse lurking at the tip of his tongue. His fading pain offered no relief.

Sitting on the lone wooden stool, Ylgr hummed a silent melody, kicking the air back and forth as she swayed playfully to it. “It sure was quite a fight. But no one’s hurt.”

“For now,” he grumbled. His hand wiped the gathering sweat drenching under his horned helmet. With each of his lumbering steps, the old wooden floorboard made a painful croak.

The Tempest had learned its lessons. Summon two armored scraps, because a rake and a spade would find a hard time breaching them. Add two more mounted clerics. Turn everything into a war of attrition. Watch the cracks on their shoddily repaired weapons increase.

While gazing past the bare window, Helbindi briefly wondered if this was how it felt to be under siege. He had felt his own strength waning more and more; seen Ylgr yawned every now and then. They got no vulneraries, and he was damn sure stronger scraps are waiting for them. Fuck knows what would happen then.

A growing sense of dread and helplessness burned through his gut like a dozen embers, repeating endlessly: _this was a mistake_. Sometime after that, the former general slid down the ragged wall and buried his face in his hands. The sound Helbindi made betrayed his own frustration. Mostly at himself.

_If only you had followed directions so well before, dear…_

“Um.”

The scraping sound broke his reverie.

Ylgr had gotten up and knelt by the bundle of coconuts on the floor, slowly untying the knot. “We’re in deep trouble, aren’t we?” she asked, not looking at him.

That felt like a punch in the gut. “Stop talking nonsense or I’ll smack you ‘til you’re quiet, brat,” he snapped.

“So we _are_ in deep trouble.” With a pout on her face, the brat offered one of the coconuts to him. “The last time I hear you threatening me, you—”

“Died. By Surtr’s fire.” He didn’t even flinch. The former general took the fruit before swinging the small shovel down onto the shell. “Then your sister killed him and saved you.”

Helbindi arched an eyebrow, daring the brat to make her point, and the pout on Ylgr’s face grew into a frown.

“Being prepared is good,” she said instead.

“Tough luck, brat.” He didn’t mean to snort, but he did. “Nobody wants to die, but you see yourself how we’re doin’. It’s always kill or be killed. If everythin’ goes down, either I die alone and you saved yourself again or we die together.”

Ylgr looked away. “…You don’t have to hold back. I might die before you.”

“What’s there to hold back, you damn brat?” he hissed with gritted teeth. “You that eager to die? Or you think I’m gonna leave you alone to save my damn hide?”

“I know you won’t.” Ylgr’s voice lowered to a murmur. “But that still hurts.”

Whatever fire was burning inside him died the moment he caught the gathering tears on her eyes. When the brat curled herself smaller, the ashes turned into guilt.

“Everyone keeps making promises they can’t keep. Brother, Sister, you… Everyone keeps saying everything’s going to be alright.”

She sobbed once, a small sound that crushed Helbindi with its truth.

“It’s not.”

The tense silence that dawned between them was quickly overtook by the winds and the ocean. With nothing to say, the former general just sat there and watched the brat roughly rubbing her eyes between ragged exhales, attempting to control her own emotions like someone twice— _thrice_ —her age. Someone who understood perfectly how useless tears were.

Many things clicked into place and realizations burned through Helbindi’s stomach like a vengeful king. Like himself, Ylgr’s eldest sister was a ghost, tethered solely by the whims of the summoner and his relic. Her other sister lived under borrowed time, doomed herself to save her realm.

He was not the only one suffering from the looming guilt of being alive.

And for all he and Ylgr had been through together, their interaction never strayed pretty far from _do this, brat_ or _stop doing that, brat_. Helbindi knew it all along. Had zero problems with it. Not only were there always more pressing matters to deal with, that kind of communication had always been the normal for filths like him. But Ylgr came from a different life, a happier one, a life filled with unimaginable concepts like love and friendship. A life he ended.

And that hellscape might also be the one she died in.

Thinking about that was more than enough to make Helbindi squirm in discomfort, scratching his spiked hair in search of something to say, anything to say. He couldn’t help thinking about all the moments he lost. All the things he could no longer do with Menja.

Salvation was lost to him, that much he accepted. But he had this moment right here. A chance to make something right.

“Hey,” he finally said. “So…uh, say we’re gettin’ into another fight. What do you think are waitin’ for us?”

Ylgr fixed her eyes on him, saying nothing for a while.

“Sister told me about the Tempest she went into,” she said with a frown. “There, Loki turned into Fjorm and ambushed her in the center. She also turned into me once. Fjorm and Brother said she caused so much trouble. I don’t like that. I don’t think I like her.”

“Yeah, me neither.” It ain’t news, but _fuck_ if that wasn’t annoyin’. “Likes to mess up with people’s head, ain’t she.”

Ylgr nodded and said nothing more.

In the end, Helbindi really had no comforts to offer, just the truth.

“Right,” he sighed. “So, uh, gonna be honest right now, I guess. Things ain’t lookin’ good. And you’re right—either of us could die. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s both of us. But I’m gonna tell you this at least: your life is worth more than mine. Than two of me, even. And I—I ain’t lettin’ it slip away easy. For your family. For your country.”

For his own conscience, he didn’t say. For all he failed to achieve.

The former general continued before Ylgr could open her mouth. “Don’t you dare argue, brat. Think about your family’s feelings if you’re dead. And if your brother and sisters are dead, all of Nifl becomes your responsibility. So don’t say somethin’ stupid like our lives are equal or some shit.”

The brat said nothing for a long while and Helbindi wondered if she finally saw some sense.

That was not what happened.

“I’ll grieve for you,” she said.

“What.”

“If something happens, I’ll grieve for you.” Ylgr looked up. A smile began to grow, soft and tender. “It sounds strange, but I think of you as a friend. So no matter what happens, I’m glad I can spend more time with you.”

It was too much.

Helbindi laughed, the sound booming around the small hut, as the tension around his body abruptly loosed all resistance. “Damn, you’re really one stubborn brat.”

“Really? That's a compliment if it comes from you.”

“Yeah. Dammit, it really is a compliment,” he said, voice hoarse and wavering. “…But thanks, I guess. 'appreciated it, confusin’ as it is.”

“Why is it confusing?”

“What?” Helbindi tossed the coconut in his hand away. It struck the decaying wall with a loud crack. “Both you and the summoner are so damn eager to forget who I am or what I’ve done.”

“Not me.” Ylgr shook her head. “I still can’t forgive what happened. But I hate feeling this angry all the time. I hate feeling like everything is my fault for not being strong enough to protect anyone. It’s stupid.”

Something in those words sliced Helbindi raw and open. He turned his head to gaze at the sea.

“…You deserve to be angry, really,” he finally. “It ain’t stupid. What Muspell has done— _what I’ve done_ —it was nothing short of a genocide.”

His voice must have been horrible, because a small, warm hand tenderly touched his shoulder.

“Maybe,” Ylgr said with a kind smile. “I can’t undo what happened, but I’m going to do my part to help everyone I care for recover from the war. And that also includes you.”

It was too warm. Too kind. Too—whatever. He rested his head on the wall and closed his eyes. He was tired.

“Yeah, yeah. Now we carry on, no matter what we’ll find next. Or who.”

Ylgr pumped her fist in the air and stood up. “Onward!”

It was so damn innocent it made Helbindi snicker. Seeing her bein’ a brat once again was strange. Stranger was the fact that somehow he no longer found it grating.

Memories still slipped in with regret, clawing his insides with dull and rusted nails. But there was also something else, beating faintly along with his heart.

He had to move forward, so he did.

====================

“Oh, oh! Can I ask you another thing? If Loki turns into me right now, what will you do?”

“Whack her up and look for the real you, of course. And I expect you to do the same if she turns into me.”

“I can’t imagine that. Imagine you speaking like Loki. Or her trying to speak all those grown-up words like you always do like damn and hell and crap.”

“Urgh—wait a minute, who the hell says something like _crap_!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Let Yglr say fuck_  
>  It's fun to describe how their in-game skills work, because Summer Helbindi and Summer Ylgr works _really well_ as a team.
> 
> Also I GOT HIM I GOT HIM I FINALLY GOT HIM FUCK YEEEEEES
> 
> I'm so satisfied. But also I had _plans_ , so I'm gonna be hella stubborn and finish what I'm started.

**Author's Note:**

> I still haven't got Summer Helbindi.
> 
> But also, the current Tempest Trials is rather interesting ~~and damn Loki what a savage~~ so I decided to wade through ridiculously unfamiliar waters to present y'all this. It is my first attempt in writing action, so....  
> .....comments and concrit are sincerely welcomed.


End file.
